


Two Weeks

by megsta95



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Based off of Pretty woman, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-20 22:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2445158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megsta95/pseuds/megsta95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft has lied to his fiancee, Anthea. He told her Sherlock had a girlfriend who would love to be her maid of honor. Now he has to hire someone to be his brothers fake girlfriend for his wedding. Molly Hooper. They have two weeks. Week one is to get to know each other. Week two they have to convince every one they are in a relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am basing this off of Pretty Woman. It's one of my fave movies! There are big differences though. Like Molly is not a prostitute, she is an escort of the 'company kind'. I will have connections from the movie in this, don't worry ;) I just didn't want her to be a prostitute. I hope you enjoy this and would love to hear what you think!

Sherlock Holmes was seated inside his brother Mycroft's way too big (in his opinion) office. Tapping his foot in aggravation, at being summoned and whisked right away to be sat down looking at an empty desk for half an hour. Of course that is Mycroft's way, dramatic. Sherlock rolled his eyes at the thought. Luckily for him his brother strolled in very chipper.

“What's gotten you so … happy?” Sherlock asked as his brother took a seat at his chair.

“I got what I wanted”

“You always get what you want. What is it Mycroft, I do have cases you know.”

“Mhm. Yes, cases. Wouldn't want to disturb those. Sherlock I have asked you here-”

“Asked?! You got two men to drag me from my flat and into a car. I wouldn't call that asking, kidnapping more likely.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes and ignored his younger brother. “Because Anthea and I are to be married.”

Sherlock laughed. “You married? I thought the world was too full of goldfish.”

“Anthea is many things, a goldfish she is not.”

“So your to be married to your assistant?” Sherlock scoffed.

“Yes. There is nothing wrong with that. We have worked together for years. Spending time in each other's company hours upon hours, surely something was bound to happen.”

“Obviously it did. I don't see why you had to drag me all the way here to tell me this … joyous news.”

“Sherlock, we are getting married in two weeks time. At our childhood home, mummy's request of course. Anthea wants a country side wedding. It will be very small, family and very close friends only.”

“And I suppose you want me there?”

“I was hoping. Along with being my … best man.” Mycroft and Sherlock both looked very uncomfortable. They always did when any form of sentiment or family moments arose. Several minutes had passed before Sherlock moved. He got up from his chair and lifted his coat from the back.

“I don't think I can make it. Please give Athena my regards.” Only making it to the door.

“Please Sherlock. I would really … love it if you could make it.”

Turning around facing his brother. Mycroft never pleaded, for anything. “Does it mean that much to you?”

“Yes. You can bring anyone you wish. John, Mary, and Elizabeth naturally all three are a package deal. Mrs. Hudson, DI Lestrade. Just no homeless network.”

Sherlock thought for a moment. His brother, although he can't stand him, has helped him out a lot. The least he could do was endure a wedding. After all what is family for. “Okay, I will be at your wedding.”

Mycroft smiled. “Excellent! The best man as well?”

Rolling his eyes. “The best man as well.”

“Anthea will be delighted.” Sherlock doubted very much this had anything to do with her. “Now there is one thing I do need you to do.”

“Of course, how did I not see this coming?”

“Athena has no friends or family. Therefore she is left without a maid of honor or a bridesmaid.”

“We could just get Mary to do it.”

“We could, but I think it would be nice if you brought a date and pretended that you've known her a while.”

“Why lie?”

Mycrot yanked on his collar. “I may have told Athena you had a girlfriend you are seeing, that would just love to be her maid of honor. She doesn't want just anyone you know. And think of mummy, she would be upset that you brought a one time thing to a wedding. Especially mine.”

Mycroft had a point, still. “Sentiment has made you weak, Mycroft.”

“Bite me. Will you just do this?”

“Fine.” Sherlock rose an eyebrow and looked off to the side, crossing his arms.

“Take this week to get familiar with her, so when we all go down to the house it won't seem suspicious.”

“Bit pretentious isn't it? I haven't even found one yet.”

“Nonsense. I Have already found you one.” Mycroft opened a drawer and pulled out a file, slamming it down on the desk. Sherlock strolled over and picked it up. “Her name is Molly Hooper. She's an escort of sorts.”

“A prostitute, you want me to pretend I am in a relationship with a Prostitute!”

“Oh, She is very far from a prostitute.”

This morning.

Mycroft seated in his chair, elbows perched on his desk and chin resting on top of his clasped hands. Molly Hooper entered his office. She looked nervous. One look at the woman and he could tell she was going to be a LOT of work. She had a bright woolen jumper that was two sizes too big, baggy pants and hair pulled into a simple ponytail, carrying an oversized bag on her shoulder. She sat down, hands in her lap and looked at him.

“Hello.”

“Your Molly Hooper correct?”

“Yes.” She bit at her lower lip. Bad habit. She's had for ages.

“I am in need of your … services.”

She straightened up a bit, licking her gnawed on lip. “Of course. Although I do need to make it very clear that I do not perform any sexual acts. I am merely an escort for company, not pleasure.”  
She slitted her eyes at him.

“I should think not. A lady as yourself wouldn't mix with that sort of thing, now would she.”

“No need for flattery Mr. Holmes. Just time and date. With cash advance.” Hmm. Miss. Hooper was quite the woman. She is not at all what she appears to be.

“Very well. My brother needs a girlfriend-”

Molly scoffed. “I don't play house.”

“I will make it worth your while.”

“It's going to cost you.”

“Name your price.”

“How long would I have to play this part?”

“Two weeks.”

Molly scrunched her face up, thinking of a good figure. “Seven thousand pounds.”

“Four”

“Five”

“Deal”

Feeling satisfied with herself she sunk back in her chair. “Now where is this brother of yours?”

“You'll meet him later. We need to get some things sorted.”

“Bring it on.” Shifting her body and crossing her arms, she challenged him. Oh, she was definitely not what she seems.

“The two weeks will be split in half. First week you'll be staying with my brother, in his flat. Get to know him, so you can be convincing when the time comes. Second week you and him will attend my wedding at our parents home. Of course you will be sharing a room, not to worry, I'm sure he will sleep on the floor. There you are to flourish as his girlfriend and my lovely bride to be's maid of honor. As these two weeks go by all of your time will be used to make sure people will believe you.”

“What about my job?” Another shocking announcement.

“Job?”

“Yeah, I'm a pathologist. It's my day job. I can't just up and leave for two weeks. A girl's gotta pay her bills.”

“I can make them give you time off.”

“You can't assure that.”

“Actually I can.” Grinning, he placed his arms behind his head and leaned back in his chair.

“Okay. Then where does he live?”

“Not to worry. I will send a car to your home later this evening. It will take you to his place. You better tag along and get everything ready.”

“My money.”

“Oh yes, I almost forgot.” Pulling out a big thick envelope, he slid it across his large desk. Molly snatched it up and checked inside. Pulling a crisp bill out and inspecting it. She's no dummy, that's for sure.

“I think we're done here, unless you want me to do anything else.”

“No Miss Hooper, that will be all. Until next time.”

She stuffed the money in her bag, pulling it on her shoulder. She nodded once and left without another word.

“When will she be arriving?”

“Around seven. Two hours.”

Sherlock shrugged his coat on and slipped the file inside his jacket. “Better get home then. Wouldn't want to miss my house guest's arrival.” When he opened the door he was shocked to find Anthea frozen with her hand in front of her, as if she was going to open the door. Sherlock looked to his brother who gulped, fixing his collar again.

“Anthea! Darling, Sherlock was just leaving.”

“Yes I was. Congratulations.” Nodding he zipped past her and got out as fast as he could. After all, he had a house guest to entertain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I use Italics quite a bit in this chapter, I noticed with the last one it didn't show up that I used it. So not sure what's up with that if you know how to get it to show italics on here I would appreciate it if you could tell me :) If not that's fine as well. So because it may get confusing I will double space, because at the start of this chapter it goes back and forth between present and past. I'm sorry if it's still confusing, I just don't know how to get it show that i used italics.

Molly Hooper stood in front of her bathroom mirror. Biting her lip. This was a big job, massive actually. Five thousand pounds to pretend to be some bloke's girlfriend?! The man must be mad. She almost waited for a phone call saying it was all a huge prank. Meena wasn't going to believe this. She's going to throw a bloody fit. Meena's never made that much cash and she's been escorting for bloody six years. She was the one who got Molly into it. After her father died, she was left with the crippling unpaid medical bills on top of her school loans. She was struggling to make ends meet. Even when she got hired on at Bart's, she still didn't make enough money to cover her debt. So Molly asked Meena about escorting and thought at first it was all a bit dodgy. Men paying for a woman to have dinner, chat and then go? She understood men's desires when it came to paying for prostitutes, they got a good shag out of it. Somehow she never will grasp the reason why they would want to buy companion ship. Most of the men she escorted were high on the social ladder, and good looking. Which is why it puzzles her.

Molly shook the thoughts from her mind and started brushing her hair out. She had to treat this like any other job. She couldn't help, but go back to when Meena told her the three rules.

 

“Three rules?” Molly asked eyes wide. Meena was lying on the couch on her stomach, smoking a cigarette and reading Cosmo. Taking a long drag, before peering down at Molly. Who sat up against the couch on the floor. 

“Yeah, everything’s gotta have rules Molls, even escorting. They're simple.” She flipped a page and continued on reading.

Molly dug out her curling iron and plugged it in. Once it was ready, she wound a parting f her long brown hair around it. Waiting for it to curl.

“Tell me.” Molly asked. She not only surprised Meena, but herself as well. Why would she even want to know? It's not like she's going to be escorting.

Meena's eyebrows rose. “You really wanna know?”

She thought for a second. She could say no, never mind. Or take a leap and find out. She ran her thumb along her bottom lip, before looking up at her friend. “Yeah, I do.”

Meena smirked. “Okay then.”

 

Molly took one last look at her hair. She only curled it to an extent. Messy curls, guys loved that. Taking out her make-up bag she found what she was looking for. Cherry red lipstick. Leaning over the sink she poised the tube to her lips.

 

Meena was giddy. She quickly butted her cigarette out and placed the magazine on the coffee table. She patted the spot beside her. Molly obeyed. Meena wrapped her arms around her, before spilling the trade secrets. “First rule, never be yourself. Always have a cover personality, because at the end of the day it's a job and your being paid to be … interesting.” 

 

Molly smacked her lips, which were now bright red. Curling her lashes, before painting them with mascara. Giving her lashes the desired effect. Finding her hoop ear rings, she placed them on the counter. Taking her diamond studs out and carefully placing them in a special spot in the cabinet. They were the last gift she received from her father before he passed away. The weight of the hoops, were something to get used to, but she'll manage. She always does. 

 

“So you have to have like a fake identity.?” Molly questioned.

“Sort of. You can use your real name. How else are they to find you? Just makes things easier. I find it best to be fake with them. You only have to spend a couple of hours in their presence. Besides showing who you really are can get tricky.”

She scrunched her nose. “Tricky?”

“Yeah, you know when you meet someone and chat? Well it's like that. You might hit it off, which is what you don't want to happen. It's only a job, nothing more. So use a fake personality.”

 

Opening her closet, she immediately found the dress she was looking for. Slinky black cocktail dress, with silver trim at the top. Taking a breath, she grabbed it.

 

“Second rule, don't get attached. Your definitely going to get return customers, trust me. Fortunately it's good for your pocket, unfortunately you get to know him. Bringing us back to the initial problem, with why we have to change our personality in the first place. Just remember, it's not really you, it's the persona you give that he likes. He would act totally different around you, the real you that is and you may not like him.”

 

Taking a step back and examining herself in the long mirror she had in her bedroom. She smoothed the dress out to her liking. Slipping her feet into a pair of black suede heels. Looking back at her reflection, she itched to bite her bottom lip. The only thing stopping her is not wanting to smudge her lipstick.

 

“The third and most important rule, is no kissing. Under no circumstances do you kiss the client. This rule protects not only your lips from unwanted kisses, but from a broken heart. All the rules kind of combine to be a barrier. Not allowing anything to get to us. Therefore we will not feel the need to kiss, but if you do” Meena looked right at her, pointing her finger. “Remember your breaking the sacred rule of escorting.” 

Molly couldn't help but burst out laughing. Meena's seriousness washed away as she joined her. The girls leaning on each other, holding their stomachs, waiting to calm down.

“Those seem like simple enough rules.” Molly finally said. Meena sat up and looked down at her.

“Simple can be complicated.” Molly had no idea what she meant. The rules were simple and simple can't be complicated. “Why do you wanna know anyway?”

“Umm..” She wasn't sure how to admit to her best friend how her life is a financial mess. Molly searched everywhere to find a second job, but in this economy there was no such luck. She was at her wits end, she had to find something to keep her afloat. Escorting seemed like her only life jacket right now. “You know how when dad died I got put with the medical bills that weren't paid, then the funeral, my school debt?” Meena nodded. “Well it's all too much. I can't take it with one job. Even if the pay is fantastic. I need something, anything” She could feel the tears trek down her cheeks, before she could stop them.

“It's going to be alright Molly. I promise. Nothing bad will happen to you.” Meena whispered. Pulling Molly in for a hug. Stroking her head and letting her cry.

 

Molly sat on the stairs of her building, waiting for the car that was suppose to pick her up. She nervously fiddled with the bangles at her wrists. She had to make a good first impression. This man's brother paid a lot of money for her, so she was going to make it worth his while. Molly liked to consider herself a chameleon of sorts. She didn't just change her personality when around a client, oh no she changed her personality to fit the man's. It was all about what they wanted in a social partner. This was the first time she ever faked being a girlfriend though. She wasn't really sure how it would go or should? She wished Meena would have answered her phone, she really needed advice. Although how could she help? It's not like she agreed to two weeks of being a pretend girlfriend to a man. She only ever went out with one for a couple of hours. Thankfully a sleek long black car rolled up and a man in uniform, bowed.

“Miss. Hooper?”

“Uh, yes.” He ran up and retrieved her bag. She went to open the car door, but he beat her to it. “Thanks” She quickly got in and found herself in awe. The inside was nice. There was a mini bar, two screens, and a mini-mini fridge. The only thing she could think of was-  
“Who are these people?” She whispered out loud, covering her mouth instantly. She was careful not to mess up her lipstick. Slowly placing her hand back in her lap, she watched the buildings go by as she sped off to her mystery destination.

Sherlock sat at his chair, putting a kink in his neck from constantly gazing at the clock. Thanks to his brother he had to entertain a woman for two weeks, how on earth was he to do that. He can't compromise his cases. She will have to just understand that they are more important to him than this silly little 'fake relationship' thing.

It was boring waiting. Time went by so slowly, each tick of the clock, making him cringe. He felt he was slowly dying. He was so bored that when Mrs. Hudson came up to check on him, he asked her to bring tea. She of course went straight down to make it. Unfortunately she hasn't returned since. 

Sherlock feared that blasted Downton Abbey was on. That would mean Mrs. Hudson wouldn't come back with his drink until it was over. Sighing he got up and found two glasses. He filled them with water and set them on his desk. He gazed intently on them. So enthralled with the glasses of water he didn't hear the car pull up or Mrs. Hudson answering the door. 

He slowly lifted one glass off the desk, holding it in front of him. He cranked his arm back and let it fly. Watching it smash into a thousand pieces, while the water ran down the wall. Doing the same with the second glass. But this time the door to his flat burst opened, with a shriek. Sherlock smiled, ah there she is.

“Mrs. Hudson, I was beginning to wonder where you had gotten off to with my...” He trailed off as he saw a woman behind his land lady. She was stunning. Her hair curled into messy curls, a figure hugging dress, make-up, jewelery. She was trying to make an impression. “... tea.”

“Sherlock what have I told you about my bloody walls!” She was in a frantic state, waving her arms around at him and the mess he made.

“Mrs. Hudson! Tea!” He yelled.

“When I'm at that wedding next week I am having a word with your mother.” She called back as she was descending the stairs.

The woman shuffled in, her mouth agape. “I'm-”

“Molly Hooper, yes I know. Your the woman my brother hired to be my pretend girlfriend for his wedding.” He fired rapidly.

She gave a nervous titter. “Yeah, that.” She heaved her duffel bag inside, letting it land with a thud on the floor. Judging by the looks of her, she has loads of products to plaster on herself in there. “So who are you?” She asked more confidently, he noticed. She strutted inside more, letting her hips sway. Sherlock couldn't help but let his eyes wander to her behind. Only noticing he didn't answer when she stopped swaying.

“Hmmm?”

“Your name, you didn't say?” She gave a sly grin at him. Oh, she knew exactly why he didn't reply right away.

“Sherlock Holmes.” It was weird and a bit concerning that he actually had to introduce himself. People usually knew who he was. “Sherlock Holmes famous consulting detective?”

“Sorry don't get out much.” She found John's old chair, and sunk into it, before bringing her legs up and over the arm. She shucked her shoes off, letting them hit the floor. “You must be really good if they consult with you.” 

“I am.” Sherlock took a seat in his chair opposite her. “I can see what ordinary people can't”

“How's that?”

“I deduce.” He saw her eyes widen. Her body leaned forward awkwardly with her legs still perched on the arm. She was interested, very interested. This of course intrigued Sherlock. Most women who hear this just chatter on about something else, they don't care how he does it. But she does. Interesting. “I observe people and places.”

“You can solve things by looking at them?”

“Yes.” Sherlock saw the gleam in her eyes. She wanted to know more. She gave a half smile, then took her legs down so she could sit up. 

“Could … could you deduce me?” She asked nervously. 

“I could, if you want me too.” He leaned forward.

“Okay” 

“You have a day job, one not of the escorting kind.”

“How-”

“Your skin is pale for this time of year. Which suggests you don't normally wear what you have on, you prefer long clothing. The paleness of your face also suggests you don't get out much during the day time hours, your complexion shows a hint of tanning, but not enough for you to frequent the outdoors in daylight. Meaning you have a day job. Working somewhere in doors until late afternoon. From work you go straight home not leaving your flat until you have to, leaving no time for your face to naturally tan since it rarely sees the sun. You work somewhere that ensures cleanliness. In fact your so used to it you couldn't help but to sanitize your hand before coming up, I bet your itching to head to the bathroom to wash them. Your smart, clearly so-”

“There's no way you could know of my intelligence”

“Mmm, yes. When I said consulting, you knew what it meant. Most people ask. Even John asked” Sherlock pondered his statement a moment. Maybe intellect has nothing to do with knowing what his job entitled. He may have to reevaluate. 

“Who's-”

“So not just any job then. Something that would require skill and precision. My guess is your a pathologist. Your steady steady hand is a dead give away.”

Molly's eyes went wide. “How could you get that from those little bits?”

Sherlock threw a smug look in her direction. “Your bag has your clothing in it. Your regular clothing. You change at work, but formaldehyde is very … strong and can leave traces if one is constantly around it. I could smell it as soon as you carted it in.”

“Impossible! Unless you have super human smelling. I use the strongest detergent out there to get rid of the stench.”

“No, I just trained my senses to observe.” Sherlock leaned back feeling satisfied. He always does when he can show people what he can do. He almost went to reach for his coat collar, but slowly covered when he realized he wasn't wearing it, by rubbing his neck. Molly kept staring at him, her eyes narrowed trying to figure him out. Mrs. Hudson breaking her concentration.

“Brought the tea dear.” She set it down on the table beside Molly. Sherlock jumped up ready to make his cup, when his phone went off. He frowned and answered, walking to the window for privacy.

Molly was unsure of this Sherlock bloke. He was very … eccentric in his ways. But at the same time, she loved that about him. He didn't care what others thought … okay he did. She could easily tell he's a complete and utter show off. He was itching for her to ask him to deduce her. Which is why she did. After all her job as his escort and fake girlfriend was to make him happy. She didn't like that he knew her day job though, that was part of who she really was. Which kind of interfered with rule number one of escorting. No use wishing to go back now, what's done is done. 

She did fancy him a tad. He was beyond good looking. He had beautiful curls, gorgeous eyes, cheeks bones that could kill. He was rather fit, oh he was fit. Those buttons straining to break free-  
She had stop thinking like this! He was a client, nothing more. Molly found herself staring at his backside as he stared out the window on his mobile. She was so fixated on him she hadn't noticed the land lady taking a seat in the chair across from her. “Hmm?” Molly blinked her gaze towards the woman.

“Don't worry about Sherlock, he's fine. A bit maddening sometimes, but he's a good one.” She beamed like a proud mother. 

“Oh, I wasn't worried.” Molly chuckled to reassure the lady. She turned her attention to the tea set and made herself a cup. “Thank-you for the tea.”

“Your welcome, but I'm not your house keeper dear.” Mrs. Hudson smiled. “Sherlock told me he was having a woman move in.”

Molly smiled, taking a sip of tea. Trying to ignore the nosy statement. No way was she going to say a thing, until her and Sherlock agreed on what to say exactly to people. Sherlock bolted from his spot and ran to his coat rack and put it on. A coat in summer? 

“Case! An 8!” Was all he said before running out the door.

Molly just stared at where he once was.

“Oh, he's off on a case again.” The older woman said putting a hand on her cheek. Standing up she walked to the door, only turned back to her when the door was open. “He'll be back, when he's finished.” Mrs. Hudson explained before leaving her all alone.

What. Just. happened? She felt like she was in some weird dream. Sitting still for a good five minutes before exploring the place. Going to his desk, she was tempted to rifle through the stack of papers that littered the top, wanting to know more about him. But stopped herself. This was his work and it didn't belong to her. It would be wrong to go through them... but having a wandering eye wasn't wrong. After all she can't help what is clearly visible. Scanning the mess she picked out a couple of newspaper articles about “The Famous Detective”. Molly guessed that was him. She really couldn't find anything else, since most of the papers overlapped each other. 

She flitted to the kitchen, where she saw the table full of science equipment. She ran her hands along the smooth surface of the counter top as she explored. Feeling a bit hungry and thinking that he wouldn't mind if she borrowed some food just for tonight. Molly made her way to the fridge. Jerking back a bit from the sight of a severed head, right smack dab in the center. She giggled. Who has heads in their refrigerator? Apparently Sherlock Holmes. Hopefully he has some food as well. Peering in she could see more body parts stored here and there. Unfortunately the only thing he had that was edible was a head of rotten lettuce. Sighing she let the door slam shut. This was going to be a long night without food. She decided to go up to her room and unpack then she could take a nice long soak in the tub.

A few hours later Molly was relaxing in a nice hot bubble bath. She brought her phone with her so she could try to call Meena. Who thankfully answered this time. 

“Meena your never going to believe this job I'm on.”

“Sweetie I've done just about anything, it's going to take Santa Claus himself to shock me.”

“Santa Claus eh? Well what about I just got paid five thousand pounds to be some blokes girlfriend!” Molly squealed into the phone.

“No seriously” Meena laughed. “what's the unbelievable job?”

“That is it.”

“Five thousand pounds? You want me to believe some bloke just paid five thousand pounds to spend the night with you?”

“No two weeks.”

“Five thousand pounds?”

“Yes I think we've established that.” She chuckled.

“My god Molly, your rich!”

“Well-”

“Who is this mister money bags?”

“Umm, it's that detective guy from the papers.”

“Detective guy? … I don't...” Meena trailed off in thought.

“Sherlock Holmes?”

“Meh, still have no clue. Wait! I know I'll look him up.” Molly heard the taps of the keys as Meena typed. Then a very loud squeal, that made her cringe. “He's flipping hot! With a capital H.”

“I know”

“Really, really hot.”

“I'm aware.”

“Oh god are his buttons straining?”

Molly closed her eyes. “M hm.”

“I just want to rip that shirt off of him and save those poor screaming buttons from their misery. Then-”

“Meena! Remember we talked about this? I've had enough insight in your fantasies and quite frankly I wish I hadn't.”

“But you do see how incredibly good looking he is, don't you?”

“Of course. But it's just a job. Not like I haven't escorted good looking men before.”

Meena snorted. “Not that good looking”

Ignoring her. “Besides he's a bit odd.”

“Odd how? Like a weird kink or something”

“No! He's just a bit … enthusiastic in his … demeanor.” Was that even a good way to describe him? Molly sunk down a little leaving her chin under the bubbles. She had to convince Meena that working with him was not going to be a problem. Or else she would get a very determined girlfriend dragging her away from a very good paying job. She was not going to let the money slip from her fingers now. No matter how intriguing and devastatingly handsome Sherlock was.

Trying to quickly come up with a follow up explanation, she remembered the body parts in the fridge. This didn't bother her, she was a pathologist after all. Seeing cadavers are a daily thing, so no shock factor there. It was a bit odd that he chose the place where food goes, but she can over look that. He seemed like an all around good bloke. “He has body parts in his refrigerator.”

Meena didn't say anything, so Molly tried her hand at making it seem normal.“It's no big deal really-”

“He's a freaking pyscho! Molly get out! If you don't I am dragging my tired butt to where ever this guy lives and taking you with me. No wonder he has to pay someone to be his girlfriend. Probably chops them to bits and pieces... Oh god ,please don't let him do that to you. He will probably send me little bits of you in the mail.”

Molly rolled her eyes. “I think you've seen way too many horror films. He's not going to do any of that. I'm pretty sure it's for experiments.”

“Your treating this like it's not a big deal. You said he had body parts. Body parts!”

“It's fine. Now I think we should talk later before you have a heart attack.” Molly laughed.

“No! Wait-”

Molly hung up. She knew that Meena's reaction was very natural. When you hear a guy has body parts just in his home it should heed a warning. For some reason though it didn't bother her, maybe it was because she was used to it? What ever the reason it made Sherlock Holmes all the more intriguing and Molly couldn't wait to discover more about 'The Famous Detective'.


	3. Chapter 3

Molly stretched her arms up above her head as she walked through the door into 221b. Already dressed for the day. The only clothing she had on was her normal wardrobe, So much for playing a part. The only good scrap of clothing she owned for her escorting clients was the black dress she wore last night and whatever Meena could give her. Since Meena's little freak out, Molly was not looking forward to their next chat. So her own clothing it is. She had on her favorite pair of brown trousers (that were a bit big, but she preferred it that way.), purple floral pattern shirt and a cute white cherry button up jumper. Padding to the kitchen, she could see Sherlock's door was shut. Must be tired from working all night. Her stomach ached for a bite to eat. 

“Good god.” Molly jumped at the sound of Mycroft's voice. She twirled around (ungracefully) seeing the elder Holmes brother leaning against the fireplace, looking at her horrified. “Are you really wearing that?!” His face crinkled in disgust.

Molly's face went from shock to anger. She held her head up high. “Well, I'll have you know ,this is all I have to wear. Besides-”

“That atrocious cocktail dress, yes I am aware.”

She gaped at him.

“Cameras.” Mycroft took his index finger and whirled it around. Molly tried, but couldn't see any cameras. “We are going to have to do something about your attire Miss. Hooper. My brother's girlfriend can not be seen like … that.”

Molly was beyond pissed at this point. How dare he come in here and pass judgment on her clothing. Gritting her teeth. “Your brother doesn't have a girlfriend.”

“No, but I did pay you to be, for two weeks. So act like it. Meaning your going to get new clothes...today.”

Molly puffed an air of annoyance. He seemed to have changed quite a bit since their first meeting. A proper ass he was, hopefully Sherlock was nothing like him. But she kept her mouth shut. He was right, she had to do what he said. After all it was his money.

“Speaking of my dear little brother, where is he?”

She took a glance at his closed door. Mycroft stormed past her. “Wait!” She whispered “He's been working all night, he's...” Trailing off, once he had the door wide open.

“Not here.” Mycroft said annoyed. 

“What?”

He sighed. “He's not here.”

“But he left early last night. He must be back.”

“You get used to it.” He waved her off, as he walked past her, stopping to pick up an umbrella that was leaning against the wall.  
“Used to what? Does he always-”

“Oh do shut up”

Molly's jaw locked in place, she was seething mad. She stood up straight. “Listen here. I am not your lackey that you can spit insults at whenever you feel like it. I am not a puppet that you can pull strings at. I am a human being and your employee, which means you have to treat me with respect. Clearly something your not familiar with, Mr. Holmes.”

Mycroft just looked at her. Mrs. Hudson took that moment to come in with a tray of tea and biscuits.   
“Good morning! Brought some tea.” She set it in the same spot she had last night, before turning around. “Everything alright?”

“Fine.” Molly said not tearing her sight from Mycroft.

“Yes, every things just … peachy.” He smiled at the lady then returned his gaze to Molly. “I'll have my people transfer the funds so you can get to the shops.” He opened the door and walked out, but before he could step down the first step, Molly had something to say.

“Don't forget about what we just discussed.” She smiled brightly at him.

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

Molly shut the door to the flat, glad to be rid of him for now. She turned towards the older woman “Tea?”

Sherlock was standing in a pit full of mud in his mind palace, when he felt a harsh grip on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Mycroft spat.

Of course he went to Baker street. When he found out he wasn't there his brother stormed into a tiny little car and rode all the way here to fetch him. Brilliant. Sherlock shook himself away from Mycroft's grip. “What am I doing? What are you doing! I'm on a very important case-”

“Oh stuff it! Your top priority is sitting in your flat twiddling her thumbs! If it wasn't for me she would still be doing that, but I sent her shopping.”

Sherlock scoffed. “I'm sorry, but when did you, start telling me what my top priorities are?”

“The moment you were born.”

Ignoring him.“She is not my top priority. In fact she is at the very bottom!”

“Who's where?” John Watson came up with two cups of coffee. Handing one to Sherlock.

“Oh John! Sherlock and I were just discussing the new development in his life, weren't we Sherlock?” Mycroft said.

“I don't know I-” Mycroft swiftly stabbed his umbrella down on Sherlock's foot. “Oouuu yes!” Sherlock covered gritting his teeth. 

John raised a brow looking between the two brothers. “Mmm. There's something your not telling me”

“Ah John, I see your deduction skills are improving.” The elder Holmes chimed in.

“What's going on you two? And please don't tell me this is some competition thing. Last time I was the one who ended up handcuffed to a stripper pole for hours.”

“Oh, don't be dramatic John. It was only for a couple of hours. Mycroft sent his men to get you once we realised.”

“Never mind that, just please tell me what is this new development?”

Sherlock looked at his brother. They had a stone cold staring contest for a good few seconds. Sherlock's eyes widening as he saw the sneer on Mycroft's face, he went to cover his mouth, but was pushed away.

“Sherlock has a girlfriend.” Mycroft rang out.

“Uh.” Sherlock ran his hand over his face.

John blinked a few times. Waiting to see if this was some kind of joke they strung together. Finally seeing it wasn't “This isn't going to be like the Janine thing all over again is it Sherlock?” John was serious. He didn't like that he had faked a relationship with Janine. In order to get into a highly secure office. He disliked the fact even more that Sherlock allowed the woman to fall in love with him and still went on with his plan.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “No, of course not.”

“How did I not know about this?”

“Well you are quite busy now with Mary and Elizabeth, when your not accompanying me on cases. Don't worry John it's not a big deal.”

John eyed him suspiciously “So you have a girlfriend? A real one this time?”

Why must John pry. He's not suppose to meet her yet until next week. Damn Mycroft. Sod it, he's going to find out anyway. “Yes. She's very real. In fact she's moved in with me.”

John's jaw almost hit the floor. “You, Sherlock Holmes, married to his work, has a woman who your dating, living with you?”

“Yep.” Popping the p, he rocked back and forth in the sticky mud.

“Seriously?”

This was getting tiresome. “I don't have time for this idle chit chat I have a case!”

“Actually Sherlock, you have a girlfriend. Who needs you.” Mycroft snaked his way in.

“I don't...” Sherlock saw Mycroft raise the umbrella glancing back and forth between it and him. He rather not have to endure another poke to the foot. “Yes I do. If you'll excuse me John I must be getting back to her.”

“What?” John was dumbfounded. “You don't leave a case for anything.”

“You know what they say. A woman can change a man. I know it did for me.” Mycroft sang.

“You? You have a girlfriend?”

“A fiancee actually.” 

“Wow. You two are full of surprises today, more so then usual.”

“We must really be going.” Mycroft steered his brother towards the direction of the car.

“Wait! Sherlock, if your telling the truth then you'd have no problem coming over for dinner tonight with her.”

Both of them froze. Sherlock was not ready to flaunt his new fake relationship. He just met the woman last night for god's sake. He looked to Mycroft searching for an answer or a way out. His brother had a blank stare. Great, he was on his own. “Sure, yes! We will be there. Bye for now John.” Sherlock quickly walked to the car. Mycroft pale and in a trance as he followed. How was he going to convince his closet friends he was in a committed relationship with someone he hardly even knows.

Molly paid the taxi fare and got out. She was in awe of the sights that were around her. Never in her life had she actually got to shop on Bond street. She's been here loads of times with Meena, but they never could afford to step into a shop and actually buy anything. Now with a full bank account, she could step foot into one. Even though her clothing was dissed earlier, she was pleased that she got to shop. She decided that to fit in with a Holmes man, she had to dress accordingly. So she walked over to Chanel, seemed like the place she ought to be. Instantly, she knew she stuck out like a sore thumb. Every woman who was in the store was dressed to impress. They all wore designer heels, pressed dress suits and held their heads up high. She was definitely in the right place.

As she slowly gazed the items in the store, she began to notice the looks she was receiving. Trying to not let that bother her, she continued on in her search. Until one of the workers approached her.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, well... I do need to find something a little more... dressier.” She said tugging on her jumper.

“Yes, I see.”

Molly walked around and found a mannequin wearing a nice simple pant suit. White collared button up shirt, black jacket and black carpi trousers. “This is nice. How much is it?” She looked to the retail woman.

“I don't think this is quite your...style.” She hurried over to the mannequin and stood right next to it. Watching Molly with a close eye.

Molly understood what was going on now. “I didn't ask if you thought it was my style, I asked how much it cost.”

“A lot of money.”

“How much?”

“Clearly too much for you.” The second woman said and saddled up beside the first one. 

Of course, how could she ever think, she could just waltz right in here without being judged. They saw her as she was. Dressed in her baggy normal clothing and not an ounce of make-up. They don't believe she has the money to shop here. “I have money to spend in here.”

By the looks on their faces, she could tell they didn't believe her. “I think your in the wrong place. You should leave.”

Molly felt a pit in her stomach. She slowly turned around and walked out the door. Tears almost surfacing, but she swallowed them down, as she found a taxi to take her back to Baker street.

Sherlock stomped up the stairs like a pouting child, while Mycroft was right on his heel.

“At least act your age.” Mycroft said.

Sherlock just stomped his feet louder, until he got to his door. The elder Holmes pausing to roll his eyes. He smiled as he opened the door quickly and shot inside slamming it in his brother's face. That will teach him to ruin a wonderful day. Two dead and three in the hospital. Sherlock could have sworn it was Christmas, until the Grinch showed up and spoiled it! Mycroft red in the face slammed the door louder then he did. Sherlock was seated in his chair facing the fireplace, so he didn't have to look at Mycroft. 

“Sherlock do I have to remind you, that you promised, you would do this.”

“Well we all make promises we don't keep.” Still facing the wall.

“Why must you make everything so difficult, brother mine.” Mycroft went and sat down on the chair opposite him.

“Why must you always tell me what to do, brother mine.” If there was one thing that he loathed above all else that his brother did, was his incessant need to tell him what he was or wasn't allowed to do. Although it didn't stop Sherlock from doing what he wanted. He just hated being treated like a child, especially when Mycroft did it. Yes, he agreed to pretend to have a relationship with a woman he doesn't even know. But why must that change his life. It's not like they were actually a couple. Now he had to cart her off to the Watson's for dinner, all thanks to Mycroft. He should have kept his big fat mouth shut. 

Mycroft sighed. “I just want Anthea to be happy.”

“She would be happier if you hadn't lied to her.”

“She doesn't know that I did!”

Sherlock quirked his face up. “Your conscious.”

“We don't have a conscious, remember?”

He couldn't help, but crack into a smile. Turning when he heard the door to the flat burst open.

“Oh! Sorry, I thought it was stuck.” Molly giggled. She had definitely changed from yesterday. No make-up, no flattering black dress and her hair was completely tied back into a pony tail. Some reason this bothered him. He watched her as she placed her keys on his desk, he rose a brow up at her, she didn't notice. One night here and she has made herself rather comfortable. She threw her oversized bag on the floor and leaned against the desk looking at them. Sherlock didn't know what to make of this... change. 

“What happened to you?” He asked.

“I was at the shop-”

“Not where you were! I meant your appearance.” He snapped. He was a bit aggravated at the moment. More so at Mycroft, but he didn't really care who he focused his frustrations out on.

Molly's opened her mouth to speak, but then shut it again. She soothed her overly child like jumper out, before crossing her arms. “I-I don't have anything else, but my own clothes to wear.” She seemed to have lost her confident ways from last night.

“It's not just a myth then.” He said turning toward the fireplace once again.

When he didn't elaborate Molly asked “What is?”

“That when your in a relationship, the woman really let's herself go. Better be careful Mycroft, your in a real relationship. Just imagine what Anthea really be like.” Sherlock knew this was mean. Since Molly and him weren't really in a relationship. But he was on edge, so a low jibe was just the thing. He heard Molly shuffle towards the door, no doubt going to cry in her room. “Oh and we're having dinner tonight with close friends of mine. Do find something … decent to wear.” He heard her sniffle as she ran out and up the stairs, slamming her door.

“Well done,” Mycroft said. “reduced the poor girl in tears. Although, that wasn't the reaction I got from her.”

Sherlock huffed. “I want to be solving cases, not solving a woman.”

“Your not solving Sherlock, your trying to get to know her. I say your off to a poor start. I think you'll soon find yourself sorry, if you continue to treat Miss. Hooper like you just did.”

“Sorry? What do I have to be sorry for.” Sherlock knew very well what he should be sorry for, he was too mad with his brother to care.

“Miss. Hooper isn't what she seems. You would be wise to remember that”

“I hate cryptic messages, unless their case related, you know that.”

“All in good time.” Mycroft smiled. 

“Oh my stairs!” Mrs. Hudson's cry came from the hallway. She opened the door and strutted in. “Why is there mud trailing up my stairs? And what's with all this banging? I have Mrs. Potts over for tea and she is in hysterics”

“I was on a case in a mud pit,and there will be no more slamming doors” Sherlock said, with a flick of his hand.

Mrs. Hudson saw the sour looks on the brothers' faces. “Is something wrong?”

“No everything's fine Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock's just having a temper tantrum.” Mycroft said.

Knowing Sherlock very well Mrs. Hudson just let it go. “I want the mud cleaned up tonight, Sherlock.” and she was gone.

Sherlock rose from his chair.

“Where are you going? You have an apology to give.”

Sherlock ignored his brother. “I'm going somewhere for piece and quiet!” He yelled going to his room. 

Molly was curled up on her bed. She won't cry. It's not like he means anything to her anyway, two weeks and this will all be over. She couldn't wait to be rid of the Holmes men and get back to her life. Where there was no out right rude comments made on her appearance, well not to her face anyway. Molly loved her clothes, why should she care what Mycroft, those women at the shop, and especially Sherlock thought. In fact his opinion of her mattered least of all.

Then how was it, that it was his words, that brought you here almost in tears?

Molly furiously got up and looked at herself in the long mirror that hung on the back of the door. His words repeating in her mind like a mantra. 

“It's not just a myth then.”

“When your in a relationship, the woman really does let herself go.”

She doesn't care. Her face becoming red with anger. They weren't even in a real relationship! They didn't even know each other, except for what they learned. Which was very little, can't build a relationship on that. But then, why was she so bothered, by his words? “Uh!” 

Molly charged to the bed and started pounding the pillow with her fists, over and over again. Until she was breathless and defeated. She laid across the bed on her back staring at the ceiling. She hardly knew him, yet his opinion meant everything. A soft knock came to her door. She bolted up and rubbed at her eyes that were a tad watery. Maybe Sherlock felt bad for what he said and he wanted to apologize. She quickly fixed herself up and ran to the door. To her disappointment it was only his brother.

“I came to apologize for my brother's behavior. He was in a mood. Just caught him at the wrong time.”

“Did I catch you in the wrong time this morning as well?”

“I'm sorry?”

“You said he was in a mood when he commented on my appearance, you did the same thing, so were you in a mood too? Is that how you two are, mean and rude to whoever you like to make yourselves feel better?”

Mycroft didn't answer. 

“I see well thank you very much, but I will not accept an apology unless it comes from your brother's mouth. Good day.” Molly went to shut the door, but Mycroft stopped it with his hand. “What do you think your doing.”

“I sent you to get new clothes. Where are they?”

Molly bit her bottom lip. “Umm, there was a slight problem.”

His eyebrow shot up. “Go on.” He stood there with his arms across his chest. The silence and his stare was making her feel uncomfortable.

“They wouldn't let me buy anything.” She went to sit on her bed. “I tried, but they thought I didn't actually have money to spend. So they wouldn't help me, they just told me to leave.” Molly hung her head down, the tears almost spilling over. Mycroft came in and stood in front of her. “ I guess you and Sherlock are right. I must look bad, if people don't even want to let me shop in their stores.” She placed her face in her hands.

“You don't look bad at all.”

“Your just saying that because I told you, you had to treat me with respect.” Her voice was muffled by her hands.

“No, I mean it. Your clothing choices … may be unusual for a woman like your self. You are very … attractive.” Mycroft gulped, pulling on his collar. 

Molly looked up and at his face. He didn't seem like he was lying. 

“Miss. Hooper, if I have learned one thing in the world of the rich. Is that they tend to be a bit,” He gazed up in thought, crinkling his face together.

“Snobbish?” Molly asked.

“Yes, very much so. I would not take it to heart. And as for my brother, he is very different when it comes to social normality. He was angry with me for taking him away from a case to spend time with you. So you waltzed in and he found his target that he could actually do damage to. My brother is many things Miss. Hooper, but I think you will come to find he does have a heart. You just don't know him yet.”

Molly blinked. This was a totally different Mycroft to the one this morning. He was being … nice. She much preferred this version of him. A little flutter of hope flew around in her stomach at the thought, that Sherlock could be nice as well. After all they seem to have a lot in common.

“Now we need to get you something to wear to that dinner tonight.”

“I told you they wouldn't help me.”

“Yes, that's why I am going to help you.”

“How?”

“I know someone who is very good with women's fashion.” Molly squinted at him unsure. Mycroft pulled his mobile out of his jacket pocket. “I need a favor. A friend of mine needs something to wear to dinner with Sherlock tonight, I'm sure you could help with that.... Yes,, well after all, if it weren't for me helping you out with your revenge plan, you wouldn't be living it up now would you?... fine, I'll get the money to you right away....she will be there shortly.” He hung up. “done.”

“Who was that?”

“Someone who is going to help you find a dress for dinner.”

“Why did you say revenge plan?”

“It's a long story we don't have time for. Chop, chop, we are on a time limit.” He took Molly softly by the arm and down the stairs into a waiting car. Helping her in. “Now when you get there just ask for Janine.”

“Who is Janine.”

Mycroft smiled, “An old friend. Don't worry Miss. Hooper, She loves to talk.” He shut the door leaving Molly wondering what he meant by that. There was obviously hidden meaning behind his words. Whoever this Janine woman was, she hoped that she would end up getting something nice to wear.


End file.
